Life of an Industani: Six Degrees of Separation, is one of those autobiographical books that will stand for its originality and lucid writing, says Navin Upadhyay
Autobiographical books are often prejudiced by the author’s perception of himself rather than events that shaped his life—events that need to be filtered-- so to as separate chaff from the grain and serve the readers only what is palatable and discard the stolid junks.
Historian and filmmaker Shiv Kunal Verma’s latest book, Life of an Industani: Six Degrees of Separation, published by BluOne Ink, has beautifully overcome this intuitive challenge. The result is a scintillating book that often reads like page-turner fiction.
Much of the book is an account of events seen through the eyes and lens of a young photographer whose father was an army officer. The childhood grooming in the shadow of the army had a great deal of influence on Verma’s future life. It filled him with a streak of adventure and risk-taking ability. There are several examples in this book that are pointers to this trait.
Verma vividly narrates an incident during his coverage of the Bhopal gas tragedy which showed how he reacted against it. He talks about a lonely woman in a hut who had lost perhaps everyone in the tragedy. While Verma could not muster the courage to invade the privacy of the grief-stricken woman, he saw a European photographer clicking the photograph of the woman, the camera almost shoved into her face. Verma was aghast when the photographer pushed her to evoke a response and then tried to pay some dollars to the bewildered and weeping woman.
“I think, I hit him with all the force I could muster, sending him sprawling in the dirt. He seemed to have no idea that I was there, for even though he was a big fellow, he quickly grabbed his camera and took off with top speed,” writes Verma.
This one episode shows how Verma reacted to injustice and how he didn’t care for consequences in such situations.
The same trait came into play during the Sikh riots when he rescued a Sikh running away from his tormentors at the Prithviraj road in Delhi. “ His turban was disheveled, and he was constantly looking behind him, the whites of his eyes reflecting the sheer terror of the situation. I pulled up beside him and told him to get on the scooter. He obeyed without any hesitation, and I opened the throttle and sped down the road towards the Lodhi estate,” Verma writes.
Undoubtedly, Verma is gifted with beautiful language, but this vivid description has one flaw: exaggeration. How could anyone see the terror in the whites of the eyes while riding a scooter when the other person was frantically running away from his stalkers? Still, the incident captures Verma’s personality traits from his young days. How many journalists or photographers of the present generation will take the trouble of rescuing a tormented man? They would rather film him while he was being lynched!
Verma’s account of the Sikh riots revived the horror of those tragic times. For example, he cites an instance when several armed men stood surrounding a burning truck inside of which were trapped two hapless victims. The incident shows how Verma did not care about his own life to help those men.
“You bastard,” I yelled and ran towards the men, who seeing me coming turned to face me with the spears pointing in my direction. The man close to me had a chequered shawl and I go a close look at his face—just an ordinary run-of-the-mill person on the streets of Delhi, now a murderer. The burning men inside the cabin made no move to escape, and I realize they were not only dead but their skulls were showing, the hair and skins having peeled off.”
Verma has further narrated the incident in gory details to bring alive the horror of the genocide.
Verma has vividly captured his childhood years, his growing up, and his professional journey. In his autobiographical journey, he has talked about important landmarks: the Bhopal gas tragedy, wildlife and man-eaters, Project Tiger, etc. Verma has also written a thought-provoking chapter “The Price of idealism” where he talks about a close encounter with UlfA men, armed with guns and pistols, who waylaid from his room.
His language is a blend of both dramatic writing and non-fictional narrative. Unlike autobiographical musings which sometimes tend to be boring and stolid, Verma’s account of his life’s journey is thrilling and exciting.
However, the editing could have been improved. There are no grammatical errors, but redundancies are present throughout the book, something the editors should have noted.
For example, the prologue talks about how his living room was a `mess’. At the same time, the sentences that follow show overflowing ashtrays, empty beer mugs, and askew furniture. But then few books published in India go into such niceties of “show vs tell”.
Similarly, sentences like On the fateful morning of 1984, I switched on the radio in the kitchen that was perennially turned into the main All India Radio frequency and made myself a mug of tea--needed to be spruced up and tightened.
That apart, Life of an Industani: Six Degrees of Separation, is one of those autobiographical books that will stand for its originality and lucid writing.
Title: Life of an Industani: Six Degrees of Separation
Author: Shiv Kunal Verma
Publisher: BluOne ink
Price: 995
Pages: 575